


Undercover

by Elevensins



Series: The Porn Challenges [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-02
Updated: 2014-07-02
Packaged: 2018-02-07 04:13:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1884759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elevensins/pseuds/Elevensins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Pretend to be… are you serious?" Steve said, voice kept down low.  Both brows were raised and he had the most incredulous look on his face.  </p><p>Natasha patted his cheek and whispered.  ”We’ve pretended to be married before, what’s the big deal?  Or are you afraid I’ll be your second kiss since 1945?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Undercover

**Author's Note:**

> A request from Askmace, hopefully delivered.

It was a comedy of errors from the start.

"Pretend to be… are you serious?" Steve said, voice kept down low. Both brows were raised and he had the most incredulous look on his face. 

Natasha patted his cheek and whispered. ”We've pretended to be married before, what’s the big deal? Or are you afraid I’ll be your second kiss since 1945?”

He grabbed her arm, pulling her hand down and there it was, that frowning oh so serious expression of his when he was not just displeased, but a little bit judgmental. ”That was in an internet cafe, we were engaged, not married and this is a very different situation, Natasha. I’ll be your brother or something, we are not doing this married thing.”

"Oh come on, Steve, Clint and I do this all the time, it’s not like you really walked me down the aisle or anything. Also you look nothing like me, no one is going to buy that you’re my brother."

"Well, that was Clint, I’m Steve," he replied. His expression relaxed, eyes nearly shutting as he let out a long suffering sigh.

Natasha knew she had him, then. ”Call me sweet pea, it’s cute.”

She heard him mutter something under his breath. Some thing not at all very nice and not very Steve either. But by then the guard was returning and both of them had to get into the act. 

Natasha leaned backwards against Steve, encouraging him by prodding at his arm with her elbow. He got the hint and slid his arm around her waist. She tilted her head back, just to make sure his expression wasn't still sourpuss with a side of lemon slices. He glanced down and smiled at her, even if it didn't touch his eyes in the slightest. 

She made a mental note to coach him on proper pretend expressions at some point. If he ever let her talk him into going on a mission with her ever again. Part of her wished Sam had gone in with her instead, but these small religious cults were notoriously racist. Even if they tried to pretend they weren't to the general public. Steve had the perfect look to him, all blonde, well built, and slightly dorky.

The guard still held the semi-automatic gun in his hands and gestured toward the compound entrance with a jerk of his head. ”The Prophet says you guys can come on inside. Says Randy vouches for you.”

"Told you he would," Natasha said with a lilting voice. She had on her perfect southern belle accent, already cementing in her mind that she was from somewhere in Louisiana. Part of an identity she had used before, easy to slide into like an old glove. The name she knew Randy would recognize, she’d used it once when they went under cover together.

Randy was an old SHIELD operative, who had been investigating activity in a few religious cults. So deep he didn't even know about SHIELD being compromised and even then, blowing his cover might have gotten him into deep trouble. Rather than leave, he had just stayed where he was and hoped for further orders at some point. Orders that never came. 

He also had information she and Steve needed to help them find Bucky Barnes. Trying to set up a meeting with him was next to impossible. The Prophet, as he was known to his followers, had put the whole compound on lockdown a year earlier. No one went in or out without his permission and he wasn't letting anyone out. 

And what a compound it was. Totally underground, save for a few buildings up top to store goods and for guard posts. If SHIELD hadn't been compromised, most likely the whole place would have been raided by now. As it was? They followed the guard down the staircase, into the bowels of the Prophet’s lair.

Steel gray walls, concrete floors and track lightning overhead, the bulbs themselves behind metal mesh. Natasha noted the height of the ceiling, the placement of pipes both large and small. She was small enough she could easily leap up there and get around, given the chance. Video cameras were pointing down to the ground, watching everyone who passed. She counted them and memorized their location. 

As they turned a bend and Natasha heard voices, she reached over to grab Steve’s hand. He glanced at her and she smiled, leaning in against him. He caught on, or at least she hoped he had. Steve wasn't a very good liar and a piss poor actor. She just hoped no one realized it until they at least managed to talk to Randy. 

"This is the common room, we gather here for Worship every Sunday, also for evening prayer services. You wait here till I find Elizabeth, she’ll escort you to your room."

"Thanks," Natasha said sweetly and dragged Steve behind her to sit at one of the card tables set up near the door. She glanced around briefly. There was some kind of Sunday school thing going on with several younger children near the stage. They were singing a song with their teacher, clapping their hands occasionally. The noise was perfect to drown out their whispers.

"Ok, we’re in. No idea where Randy would be though. We may have to blend in for a bit to find him."

Steve nodded, glancing around the room in the same way she had earlier. Natasha wasn't so certain about his acting skills, but she had no doubt Steve not only knew every corner they had come so far, but had better memory of the security features than she did. While she had a few ideas, he likely had already planned an escape, even if it meant going through walls. 

They didn't have to wait long for the guard to return with Elizabeth. She smiled at both of them, “Hello and welcome to paradise, my friends. We haven’t had any new members for some time. Randy was so pleased to hear you wanted to join us. God bless you both.”

Natasha heard herself repeating something insipid back to her. Sometimes one just had to disassociate themselves to keep from gagging on their own words. And then Elizabeth was leading them out of the common room, down another set of corridors toward the living quarters. 

Here at least someone had painted the walls, a cheerful blue with a sea green border along the floor. ”We have a lot of open room here. We wanted so much to grow, but The Prophet, well he knows what’s best for us. I can’t wait for him to meet you. He’s always pleased when new children come to him.”

She stopped at their room, opening the door and gesturing for them to enter. Natasha pulled Steve in after her. She already knew what was about to happen and she had herself braced to stop Steve from doing anything drastic when it happened.

Sure enough, Elizabeth paused in the doorway and said, “Now you two just stay here for a bit. The Prophet expects all new members to fast for three days before he’ll see them. Use this as a time to pray to God for guidance and visions.”

She closed the door, and the sound of the lock turning was hollow. Steve tensed, but Natasha grasped his arm, speaking to him in a honeyed voice. “Now sweetheart, you knew we were going to have to prove ourselves to the Prophet. Let’s just settle in, do our time and pray to God together.”

Steve just looked at her, then his eyes glanced up toward the far end of the room. She followed his gaze and had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing.

The room was a box, big enough for them to stand in with a twin sized bed and a small, doorless bathroom that had only a toilet and a sink inside of it. Not even a shower. The far side of the room had a large dark mirror that Natasha knew instantly was two-way. Either someone was now filming them, or they were being watched. 

But what she couldn't spot with the naked eye was any kind of microphones. Still, she didn't want to risk anything. 

So they prayed, or at least sat down on the bed together, bowed their heads and held hands and closed their eyes. Communication was done subtly. Natasha had a better time with Clint, but they’d worked together so long that subtle touches and silent looks were all they required to speak to each other without actually saying a word. She’d taught some of it to Steve, but it was like baby talk with him. Nothing nuanced or complicated, he wouldn't understand.

When she told him they were probably expecting them to act like a married couple, he lifted his head and stared at her. She could have shook him for that, but instead she leaned in and kissed him.

It was just like the first time she kissed him on the elevator, he was surprised and was so perfectly still. Then suddenly his hands lifted to cup her cheeks and finally he kissed her back. That was when she grabbed his arm and pulled him down onto the bed with her, wrapping her leg around his to make him stretch out beside her. 

"There," she whispered very softly. "At least this way we’re acting like we’re married and we can talk. Just pretend like you’re saying cute nothings to me ok?"

He could easily break them out of the room, she nixed that with a squeeze of her thumb and a slight shake of her head. She suggested they wait until evening and she’d get out of the room and figure out how to find Randy. He agreed with that. They both wondered about the two-way mirror.

”I didn't see any microphones,” he murmured as he nuzzled against her throat. Natasha had to admit, she liked that a lot.

"Me either," she replied, lifting her head enough to whisper into his ear, "Wait and see if they have a curfew and turn off the lights."

"And if they don’t?" 

She turned his face toward her again and pressed the tip of her nose to his. ”Well, we’ll go to plan B.”

He lifted a brow, “What’s plan B?”

She kissed him again to shut him up. There was no plan B. Not unless they had a Hulk with them, which in that case it’d be Hulk Smash. Maybe Steve Smash, if they absolutely had to.

He finally set his hand on her hip and she just sighed. ”Rogers, seriously. You act as if you've never— wait… have you even had sex before?”

Steve’s deer in headlights expression answered that for her. She had to bite her lip not to laugh. ”Well, first time for everything.”

"I am not sleeping with you, Natasha, forget it."

"Keep your voice down," she said with a pout of her lips. Planting a hand against his shoulder, she pushed him back into the mattress, swiftly straddling him. She pulled her jacket off, letting it slide onto the floor. Her shirt came off next, revealing the lacy black bra she wore beneath.

Steve’s hands were on her hips in an instant and the look on his face, as priceless as it was, totally looked nothing like a man who was about to make love to his wife. So Natasha leaned over him quickly, letting the length of her hair hide their faces. 

"I swear to god, Steve, what about _undercover_ do you not understand.”

"This was ah… not…" he swallowed audibly. Natasha had another longing for Clint. He had no compunctions about sex, he understood it was just part of the job sometimes. 

"Now I see why Fury never sent you with me for anything but search and rescue operations," she chuckled. 

"Natasha you can’t be serious about this."

She took his hand in hers, and lead it right to her breast, planting it over the lace bra. ”As a heart attack. Husband.”

His fingers twitched, but finally he seemed to understand the situation. His hand moved, fingers gliding up her shoulder to pull one bra strap down, then dipping beneath her breast to cup it in his palm. She had to bite her lip, tamping down the desire to ask him if hers was the first breast he’d ever touched. 

"All right," he murmured, "Just remember you asked for it."

She lifted a brow at him. Then felt her breath hitch in her throat as his thumb and forefinger closed over her nipple, tweaking it gently. His mouth was suddenly on her throat, nipping at the column she exposed as she tilted her head back.

He reached for the bra clasp, but she was swift to beat him to it, popping it open skillfully. He swept it off of her, letting it fall to the ground. She found herself suddenly moving, Steve rolling both of them so now he was pressing her into the mattress, kissing his way down to her collarbone. 

When his mouth found her breast, and teeth worried one of her nipples, suddenly she wondered if she were wrong all along. Maybe Rogers wasn't a virgin, and if not, who the hell was he seeing that she wasn't aware of?

He lifted his head to look in her eyes, a pale brow lifting as he whispered, “We’re married, remember?”

She narrowed her gaze at that challenge and reached for his shirt, tugging it over his head and tossing it somewhere over her head. Of all the people she’d slept with over the years, under cover and not, she had to admit Steve was very easy on the eyes. 

When Fury approached her, years ago now, and encouraged her to form a bond with Rogers, she told him straight up she wasn’t going to sleep with him. She’d get to know him, befriend him, provide a sort of anchor in this new age for him. But sex was off the table. Natasha had wrapped a lot of men around her fingers in her lifetime. But Steve Rogers was quite possibly the sweetest man she’d ever known. He deserved better than a master assassin toying with his heartstrings.

Yet he was the most stubborn jerk in the world. Steve made you fall in love with _him_ and his damned ideals and his blatant honesty and those blue eyes staring at you like he believed in you. Natasha had to admire his charisma. People fell for Steve Rogers left and right, and they never stopped loving him once he had them. There was no string of broken hearts strewn in his wake, just a lot of people feeling better about themselves for having been graced by his presence. 

There was a part of her that had fallen for him, and acknowledged that he had her wrapped around his finger, not the other way around. That was the part of her that woke, nerves on fire, as his hands settled on her waist, a thumb brushing over the bikini-destroying scar on her abdomen and moved to begin unzipping her jeans. 

Steve Rogers might have been sexually inexperienced, but he knew exactly where to touch a girl. No sooner did he have the fly of her jeans open than he was sliding his hand under the black lace of her underwear. She gasped, biting her lip to keep from asking where in the world he learned where a woman’s clit was; she knew promiscuous men who couldn't even locate it. Because that was not the kind of thing a wife already used to being intimate with her husband would say.

Things moved in a flurry after that, clothing stripped frantically and mouths and hands and tongues exploring. He made note that her bikini body was just fine and that made her laugh. She admired everything the serum did for him and wrapped her legs around his torso, pulling him in close to grind against him. To her delight, he groaned and bit down on her throat. 

She completely forgot there was a two-way mirror in the room, and that someone was watching. But Steve, he was entirely too conscious of it. She caught his gaze flicking toward the mirror far too often. 

"What if they’re taping us," he murmured in her ear, chewing on her earlobe afterward. 

"Wouldn't be the first time," she breathed. 

"Natasha, I can’t. I can’t do this." 

Part of her wanted to scream when he said that. Both of them were naked, and so very warm and damn if she didn't want to feel him inside of her. The other part remembered her refusal to Fury, and the way he once looked at her in more innocent times. This would change everything, even if they didn't go through with it. The idea of Steve looking at her differently, regretting her, that bothered her.

That bothered her a _lot_. 

"Fake it then," she whispered. "You don’t have to be in—"

There was the sound of something powering down abruptly, the lights going out completely in their little domicile. The sound of a siren soon followed and Natasha could see lights flashing in the crack under the door. 

"Get up, get dressed," she hissed, pushing him off of her, grateful for the distraction. 

They had to scramble around in the dark to find everything, but were just barely dressed as the someone turned the key in the lock to their room.

Randy stood in the doorway, the blaring siren louder behind him and the frenzied warning lights sending his shadow dancing frenetically across the floor. “Come on you two. We’re getting the hell out of here and I’m going with you.”

Natasha took a step, only to have Steve’s hand close over her arm to stop her. He shoved something silken into her hand and smirked at her before rushing out ahead of her to follow Randy.

For the first time in ages, Natasha felt a blush creeping onto her cheeks to realize that Captain America just handed her the silk and lace underwear she couldn't find in their haste to get dressed. She shoved it into her pocket and slipped out the door, her mind racing to find all the Steve Rogers Is Old jokes she had been storing up. 

If there’s one thing Natasha always had to have, it was countermeasures. Even for the teasing she was going to get once the mission was over.


End file.
